Poison: Devil's Rose MC #4

Chapter 9: Dakota Knight

Lunch was amazing. I mean, I have no words to describe how wonderful it was. When I heard Antonio's voice, all my anxiety melted away. I think I partially forgot how good he makes me feel. And not in a sexual way - we've never done anything even close to that - but it's something else that helps ease the burdens that way down my shoulders. 

I don't why he has the power to do that for me, and I don't know why it's only him. Is it because he has been that person in my own life? Is it in his DNA that he can help me in ways others cannot? 

I am unsure that either is the answer. It could be me. I have never allowed anyone else to see the dark sides of me, and they have never gotten the chance to protect my heart the way Antonio does.

There's something about the way he talks and listens too. He doesn't talk over me, and I know he is paying close attention because he doesn't take his eyes off of me. I don't feel uncomfortable when I go to share my opinions or play devil's advocate. 

I don't feel pressured to have the smartest things to say or to be perfect all the time. And most of all, I don't feel like I have to hide my silliness, my weird thoughts, or anything about myself. 

That's the benefit of having known him, even if he was older, during my early teenage years. He's already seen that part of me and cares for me regardless.

He even told me about how he got his club name Poison. I thought it would be because he killed someone with poison or that's his choice of weapon, but no. Before he was an official member, he fell off his motorcycle and into a bush, getting poison ivy in the process. The name stuck.

After lunch ended, we went for about a half an hour motorcycle ride around the town, the suburbs, and kind of into the forest where he told me his house sits. We didn't drive past it since I was getting tired and told him I wanted to go home, but from the random houses I was able to see, I have a feeling that his house is pretty damn large. 

I think I know how he's got that amount of money because I do remember when my father used to work as a consultant for the Devil's Rose MC, but I'm not going to jump to any conclusions about that. All I know is that the illegal stuff that they might do is for the greater good. 

That seems backward, but I get it too.

It's been about two hours since I saw Antonio, which doesn't normally feel like a time, especially when I'm participating in my favorite pastime of painting though I haven't done it in a while, but for some reason, the time is dragging me along. 

The day soon turns into night, and I have barely moved from my painting room. 

Old and dried paint is splattered on the floor, wet paint slowly drying on my hands, my canvas blank except for a rough sketch of eyes. As of right now, I don't know whose eyes they are supposed to be. 

When I paint, I try not to think too much. Yes, I think about my strokes and more technical things, but when deciding what to paint, I just see what happens. It's not like I'm trying to sell them or anything, so there's no pressure to get anything exactly right.

With a brush in one hand and my palette in the other, I quickly mix my acrylic paints to the right shade of brown. The gentle music of Jack Johnson fades into the background, my focus purely on getting my painting designed on the canvas as I want.

Everything else seems to disappear as I concentrate, and when I feel like it is finished, I cannot believe what I have done. They're Antonio's eyes. I have painted Antonio's eyes. 

I stand up abruptly, knocking my stool to the hardwood floor. Oh, that's so pathetic. 

I rub my forehead and grumble as I realize I just spread brown paint over my face.

Leaving the painting behind, not wanting to even think about it, I take a comfortingly hot shower. Paint runs down the drain, but I know I will still have specks on me tomorrow. 

I cannot believe that just happened. He can't know about that. I would die from embarrassment. 

I stick my face under the hot stream of water and try to control my thoughts that instantly go back to him. No, no, no. This is not happening. I swear I'm going to lose it.

I cook myself a small dinner consisting of salad and a personal pizza before watching Outlander. 

I force my mind to not drift back to Antonio or his soft, auburn-colored hair or his stunning, dark brown almost coal eyes or his rough, calloused hands or the rich ebony of his complexion or the small number of tattoos placed upon him. 

I try not to think of his wood and citrus perfume or his veins on his hands and arms or his muscles that tense when he moves or the warmth that radiates off of him or his smooth voice or the way my heart beats when he's around.

Dakota Teryn Knight, you are not helping yourself.

Shaking my head, I stop the third Outlander episode that I've watched tonight and make my way to my bathroom to brush my teeth. Sleep doesn't come easy. It rarely does.

***

"Good morning, Dakota."

I glance up from the book I'm reading in my hands to the person who stands in front of me. How did I not hear the bell ring above the door? Whatever, it's too late now.

"Fiona? How can I help you?"

"Oh, we're having a small get-together tonight at our house beginning around 7. Our meaning my husband, whose name is Reaper, and me. I am here to invite you."

"Are you sure that's okay? I don't want to get in the way of anything."

She scoffs, tossing an exaggerated wave in my direction.

"Please. Poison talks about you so much you're practically part of the family already."

"Does he now?"

Fiona's light chuckle catches me off guard for a moment before she leans in as if she's about to tell me something I probably shouldn't know.

"He'll never tell you himself 'cause he's shy, but uh, Poison desperately wants to be wrapped around your finger. He has since the moment he saw you were back in town a month ago."

I smile up at her and casually thank her for the blackmailing information.

"I'll be there. What's the dress code?"

"Casual and comfortable but not sweatpants. Jeans and a t-shirt, a summer dress, something like that."

"Okay, perfect. Thanks for telling me about Poison."

"Oh my gosh, yeah, of course! He's such a pain in my ass sometimes, but he's one of the best people I know. Which I don't need to tell you because you've known him longer than I have."

"I mean, I know the person he was fifteen years ago, not the man he is now. You know Poison, I know the name I cannot tell you."

"I get that, I do, but deep down, he's that same guy. I'm sure of it. Most of the guys in the MC have had it rough, but the MC is all about brotherhood and taking care of one another. Poison never waivers from his convictions, and that is hard to teach to anyone, especially as lively as he is. You know him. He might have changed his name, but you know the real one."

"I guess I never thought of it like that."

"I didn't get it at first, but it is a beautiful thing, to know their real names."

"Do other people know Reaper's real name?"

"Well, I'm not the only person that knows, but I'm the only person that he's chosen to tell."

"Do you know anyone else's?"

"No. I don't want to. I don't need to either."

I didn't realize how sacred the MC name was. I thought it was just another way to hide from me. I thought he was angry at me for leaving and pushing him away. But no. It's another part of the brotherhood and support system that he has and that he cares for.

"Thank you, Fiona. I mean it. I'll see you tonight."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tonight."